


Bodies and Memories

by Winterling42



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/M, Introspection, Just A Whole Lot of Navel-gazing, Pining, Spoilers, ep 102
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:27:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25437685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winterling42/pseuds/Winterling42
Summary: Caleb, thinking about Veth. That's literally it that's the fic.
Relationships: Nott | Veth Brenatto/Caleb Widogast
Comments: 9
Kudos: 50





	Bodies and Memories

Veth was always beautiful. It was something Caleb hadn’t let himself think about, not really. He wasn’t _allowed_ , not like that. 

But gods, she was beautiful. Arm wrestling with Beau, spinning Jester around in a circle. Smiling over at him just as the spell faded. He couldn’t _stop_ thinking about it, the moment his hand was on her shoulder and she was looking _down at him_. 

They’d built her body together, and in the midst of the spell he hadn’t been embarrassed or worried. There was just the love that he couldn’t hide—didn’t want to. He loved her ears, both round and pointed, close to her head. Perfect for holding back stray hairs. She kept her piercings, shaped each one carefully to her new ears. 

He loved her hair, thick and dark and perfect for braiding. For holding hair bands and buttons and coins. She kept it long, and he remembered her remembering how it had been her one vanity. The one thing everyone agreed was beautiful. 

He’d seen her body before, as a disguise. Warm brown skin, graceful curves, small hands that were always moving, always busy. When she moved, there was weight to her step. Everything was a dance, not a darting mess. A clever sneak, he corrected, as they made her legs. Round and soft and just as capable of being quiet. She kept the calluses from her crossbow, from walking all those months with him in broken boots. 

Caleb couldn’t stop thinking about the scars she’d kept. Her tattoos, obviously, but. She hadn’t needed to keep the puckered scar from a gnoll’s arrow just above her right breast. The darker, permanently bruised skin across her ribs where the rug had crushed her. The messy arc through her shoulder and arm where the manticore had bit her. Nott—Veth—helped him outline each of them, remembering them triumphantly. _We won, we won, we won_. 

There were a lot of things about him that were unforgivable. That he despised. But right now, at the top of that list was how desperately he missed her. She was standing right next to him, shooting bolts and casting spells and plotting with Jester. But for that hour, contained by the strictures of their spell ( _their spell, theirs and Essek’s_ ) it had been just the two of them. No names, no past or future, just the incantation and Veth’s memories. She would race ahead, shaping hair and ears and eyes, and he would follow faithfully behind, reminding the spell of all the details it needed. He missed _that_ , a melding of minds more complete than any telepathy, a connection deeper than any childhood friendship (and _that_ thought he had to snap shut immediately). 

He could never have it— did not _deserve it._ But oh, Caleb Widogast _wanted_. 

**Author's Note:**

> come find me on tumblr at [critical-ramblings](https://www.critical-ramblings.tumblr.com)!


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